I was very very close to my maternal grandparents. They have both passed on now and gone to their inheritance but I see and do many things that remind me of them. Today, for example, my body was all messed up because of my flight schedule. I flew from Idaho to Colorado. Then I flew from Colorado to Georgia. Then I drove from the airport in Atlanta 3 hours to my apartment. By the time I laid down, the sun was coming up, and I had to get up. I cannot sleep when there’s light. Anyway, this is not to whine. After all, lots of people have crazy schedules sometimes and sleeplessness is not unique to me.

This evening, like my maternal grandfather invariably did in all the years I was blessed to have him in my life, I craved cereal before bedtime. I know it’s not healthy, but I was craving it–badly. I love a particular brand of raisin bran-type cereal, and so I drove to the store around the corner from my apartment and picked up a box and a half-gallon of the milk I prefer, and a few other small items. When I got to the register to pay, a very kind black woman about my age came over to the register. She so much reminded me of folks that I gravitate towards that I almost had to pinch myself.

“Hey, hon,” she said. “How you doin’?”

“I’m fine, ma’am. You? I just found myself craving some cereal. So I’m here,” I said. She was so sweet, I just felt comfortable opening up to her.

“You’re good, hon. That’ll be $17.37,” she said. I paid for the cereal, milk, and other items.

I used my debit card and paid. Normally the cashiers at this establishment are perfunctory and about as interested in customer service as I’d be in a college calculus class–totally checked out. But not this lady. She helped me bag the few items. Then she said something that warmed my soul.

“Enjoy your cereal, hon. And Happy Easter.”

I felt myself smiling like a little boy. “Happy Easter to you, ma’am. I hope you have a good evening.”

I feel ashamed now that I did not even notice the woman’s name. I would like to write a positive review of her for the store to be cognizant of; she deserves it. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve become an old man and tend to romanticize the past or what. But when you meet people who are truly kind … well, I won’t speak for others … but when I meet such people, they stick out. They make my heart happy. They remind me of people with manners and what we used to call common courtesy. It is no longer common.

But this dear lady at the store tonight, as I went to grab a few items, and eat a bowl of cereal, and reflect upon my beloved grandparents, I just want her to know that I appreciated it. It’s the small things, I suppose, that are in fact not small or insignficant at all.

There’s a remnant of beautiful and kind folks who still speak respectfully, and still say, “Happy Easter” to one another in a culture that in so many ways has lost its soul. Thank God for kindness and the other remnants of the true, good, and beautiful.